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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291400">Switch with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoby/pseuds/Scoby'>Scoby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Djarin house [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bodyswap, Chaotic Grogu | Baby Yoda, Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Din Djarin Gets a Hug, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, During Canon, One Shot, Soft Din Djarin, Ticklish Grogu | Baby Yoda, Weird Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoby/pseuds/Scoby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When he touches his bare head, it does not anymore surprise him that his pointy ears extend to the sides wide enough to double the size of his head. His eyes have grown and nose shrunk, and his forehead has grown new, deep wrinkles.</p><p>When he looks up next time, he notices, to his horror, that the man also has his hands on his own face.</p><p>“Hey, kid! That’s <em>my</em> face. Don’t touch it.”</p><p>-----<br/><strong>where the child has no idea what Din wants him to do with the blue and red wires, but luckily, he knows a Force trick that can help</strong></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin &amp; Grogu | Baby Yoda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Djarin house [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Switch with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <em>Ooh love, no one's ever gonna hurt you, love<br/>I'm gonna give you all of my love<br/>Nobody matters like you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your life ain't gonna be nothing like my life<br/>You're gonna grow and have a good life<br/>I'm gonna do what I've got to do</em>
</p><p>-Clean Bandit, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=papuvlVeZg8">Rockabye</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board, okay? … You see where you took the blue one off? Yes, now put the red one… No, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was. And put the blue one where the red one was.”</p><p class="p1">The child holds one wire in each hand and looks back and forth between them, showing no sign of understanding what Din is asking of him. Instead, he seems dangerously curious about turning the oppositely charged wires towards each other…</p><p class="p1">“Be careful! Hold them apart. Don’t let them touch…”</p><p class="p1">Luckily, he finally seems to listen and does pull the wires apart. Instead of reconfiguring them, though, he drops them by his sides and starts crawling out of the wiring slit.</p><p class="p1">Din sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot.”</p><p class="p1">He picks up the child to help him down from the slit, but before he can put him down on the floor, he extends one tiny hand over his chest plate. Then he closes his eyes and puckers his mouth a little. Din has learned to recognise that expression as the one he wears when tapping into his powers to move something.</p><p class="p1">Except that now, the only thing that moves is something inside Din. It feels like his internal organs are reorganising, and something makes him shrink towards the floor as the kid falls from his grip and he passes out.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">When Din comes to his senses again, the first thing in his awareness is something hurting on his head. Next, he realises that it is his helmet pressing on his ears. When and how did his helmet become too small to comfortably fit his ears? Or his ears too large to…?</p><p class="p1">He grabs the edge of the helmet to adjust it and notices that each of his hands only has three fingers. The two smallest compartments of his gloves are empty.</p><p class="p1">Starting to panic, he looks around himself and finds out that he is on the ship floor, next to a bare human foot peeking from under a light brown hem of a long coat. He stands up and cranes his neck back so that he can look up up up until he sees the whole, grown up human man by his side.</p><p class="p1">Din has not seen himself in the mirror since childhood, but he recognises enough of the man’s features to make the conclusion that this is probably how he looks like nowadays. That would almost make sense, considering whose body he seems to currently be inhabiting.</p><p class="p1">His crushed head quickly convinces him that since his face is up there on top of the giant-like human and not here inside his helmet, he can take the helmet off and free his ears. When he touches his bare head, it does not anymore surprise him that his pointy ears extend to the sides wide enough to double the size of his head. His eyes have grown and nose shrunk, and his forehead has grown new, deep wrinkles.</p><p class="p1">When he looks up next time, he notices, to his horror, that the man also has his hands on his own face.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, kid! That’s <em>my</em> face. Don’t touch it.” Din's voice comes out soft and high, like a toddler’s babble. Of course. How could he produce any other kind of sound with a body of this size?</p>
<p></p><div><p>His intervention does not help. The grown up child is already tracing the lines of his nose, eyebrows and forehead, combing his fingers through his hair and stroking down his cheekbones. When he reaches the roughness around his mouth, he turns the back of his hands against it and giggles at the sensation.</p><p>“Very funny. You’ll have plenty of your own in a couple of…” Din is about to say ‘decades’ but quickly realises that in his case, it will probably take more than a couple of centuries to grow his own beard, if it even happens to his species at all. “Never mind. Just help me up there and we can finish this."</p><p>He discards his half-empty gloves and stretches his arms towards the slit where the wirings are. Much larger arms reach down to grab his sides and lift him on the edge of the slit.</p><p>“I’ll fix this real quick. Stay right there and wait." Din tries to gather as much authority as possible into his shrill voice. "Don’t move and don’t touch anything. Understood?"</p><p>He hears his own real voice cooing vaguely in response, as he turns to crawl deep into the midst of the wirings. He finds the loose blue and red wires lying next to their board. As quickly as he can, he attaches them to their new places, verifies that everything else seems to be in order and starts crawling back.</p><p>That is when he hears a crashing sound from the direction of the cockpit.</p><p>“Dank farrik!” he squeals and speeds up.</p><p>From the edge of the slit, he drops himself down and toddles over the floor to the ladder leading to the cockpit. He has to reach up to catch hold of the first ladder and pull with all his strength to get himself up on it. When he pauses to catch his breath, he remembers that he is still wearing his armour that has conveniently shrunk with him.</p><p>He launches the whipcord from his right vambrace. It comes out shorter than it used to, but it is just enough to reach the top ladder and entangle around it. With the cord, he pulls himself all the way up and stumbles into the cockpit.</p><p> </p><p>He finds the adult child busy with enjoying himself. He stands on tiptoes, stretches himself up and groans with delight when he can touch the ceiling. His bare hands find a cable hook and grasp it so that he can lift himself up in the air and swing his legs back and forth in a wide arch.</p>
<p></p><div><p>There is something about seeing himself hanging from the ceiling with an excited grin that makes Din pause. He has been in that body for nearly four decades but cannot remember the last time he has taken such pure joy in it.</p><p>But when the kid jumps down and leans over the control board to explore the knobs in the back that are normally way out of his reach, Din shouts:</p><p>“Stop, don’t touch anything! I’m done with the repairs. I hope you can still use your powers even though you’re in my body. Can you bring me my helmet and change us back?”</p><p>Reluctantly, the child leaves the control board and climbs easily down the ladder and, shortly, back up with Din’s helmet. But instead of handing it to him, he sits down on the floor in front of him, puts the helmet down beside them and picks little Din up in his arms.</p><p>Before Din can protest, he has pulled him close enough for their cheeks to touch. And Din has to admit that the tingling effect feels too pleasant not to laugh. Once they both shake with laughter, the feeling only increases and fills his whole tiny body with comfort.</p><p>Eventually, they pull back enough for him to meet his warm brown eyes that gaze at him with deep fondness and care. In the next moment, they lean closer again and he feels something soft over the wrinkles of his forehead. The child is using his lips to kiss him.</p><p>The sensation stirs a memory that has almost been swiped away from his head over the years: his birth parents used to kiss him like this.</p><p>The next thing he knows is tears pouring down his cheeks. The child pulls him close against his broad chest clad in thick, soft fabric. Two large, strong hands cover his armoured back and hold him steady, while he gently rocks him from side to side like the baby that he is now.</p><p>It is like flood gates have opened, and Din cries and cries, like he has not cried in years. His pointy fingernails dig into the front of the child’s coat as he clutches it in his fists and completely wets the patch against his head.</p><p>Finally, his tears run out, and he lifts his head and releases his hands into a light touch against the chest he is leaning on. The kid cups his chin with his palm and uses his thumb to brush the remaining tears off his cheeks. In the root of the thumb, Din can feel the callus he got when carrying their baggage over the desert.</p><p>He grabs the large hand and plucks the strands of hard, dry skin sticking out of it easily with his nails. Then he once more presses half of his face into the hand, just to savour a final feel of something that is never going to happen again as soon as he has his own face back. The warm human hand first patiently holds him, then reverts to tickling on the side of his neck until he has to laugh.</p><p>So this is the spot where this child irresistibly tickles. Of course he would know it himself. Din has tried tickling under his arm a couple times. That is where his foster parents used to tickle him, and he used to enjoy it until they taught him to resist the sensation because Mandalorians tickle nowhere. But that spot never seemed to have an effect on this kid. Now he knows better.</p><p>Seemingly content with his achievement, the kid hands Din his helmet. He pulls it over his head, wincing at the discomfort when his ears are pressed painfully against his head again. But the child has quickly a hand over his chest, and through his visor, Din sees his own face with closed eyes and a focused expression.</p><p>This time, he feels himself growing and his internal organs rearranging again before he passes out.</p><p> </p><p>When he opens his eyes and sits up, he finds his helmet comfortable on his head and the child beside him, sleeping on the cockpit floor and looking again like his normal, green-skinned self. Only, the front of his coat has a wet patch, just like an even tinier creature had just cried their heart out against it.</p><p>Carefully, Din lifts up the sleeping child and carries him to his hammock.</p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed, feed me with kudos/comments and find me on <a href="https://iamscoby.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> (more Mandalorian) or <a href="https://twitter.com/IamScoby">Twitter</a> (more Reylo)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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